


in the flesh

by fieryeyrie



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stress Relief, Teasing, how many bone jokes is too many bone jokes?, light begging, set in canaan house pre pool scene, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryeyrie/pseuds/fieryeyrie
Summary: Harrow is stressed. Her cavalier, ever the gentlewoman, has a solution in mind.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105





	in the flesh

Gideon knew Harrow had returned when the door to the Ninth wing bedroom was slammed loud enough to wake the dead. Accustomed to broken sleep, Gideon gave this little thought – except to be faintly astonished that Harrow could manage to slam such a door – until rattling and cursing continued from inside the chamber. 

Gideon, it must be noted, did not care what psychopathy Harrow was dreaming up next door. She was just naturally predisposed to curiosity. 

“Reverend Daughter,” she grovelled upon opening the door, “what the fuck are you doing?” 

Harrow ignored her. She seemed to be launching bones at the floor and willing skeletons to rise out of them as fast as she could, letting them crumple into a pile of bones each time. 

“Is this what necromancers do instead of sleeping?” 

Gideon was met with a murderous glance. “I’m trying,” Harrow said through gritted teeth, “to replicate the Canaan House constructs.” Another skeleton went limp and fell. “Palamedes has the upper hand – at everything – except – bones.” 

“You never call it boning?” 

“Shut _up.”_

Letting another construct fall to the floor, Harrow went limp herself and sat back on the bed. She drew a hand across the blood at her nose and put her head in her hands. 

Gideon perched awkwardly next to her. She considered offering a pat on the back, but also considered that this could a) be the last bastion of Harrow’s restraint on murdering her and b) potentially crush Harrow’s bird body with the impact. 

“I’m going to become a Lyctor,” said Harrow, presumably more to herself than Gideon. “This challenge is just – challenging. I’m stressed, Griddle.” 

Gideon eyed her sideways. “You could always do what the rest of us do for stress relief.” 

“Griddle, I swear –” 

“I’m just saying,” said Gideon, hands held up defensively, “if one of my magazines went missing I’d turn a blind eye.” 

Harrow began kneading her fingers into her forehead. 

“Maybe that’s not your style, though. I get it. Knowing you, you probably get off thinking about your enemies’ untimely deaths, or, like, the great skin you’ll have once you’re a Lyctor. Either way –” 

Gideon was cut short as Harrow wrenched a fistful of her cavalier’s shirt towards her and pulled their mouths crashing into contact. Harrow’s mouth was not, in fact, filled with venom, and was sweet and warm as it opened against hers. Gideon reached to cup Harrow’s face and found herself pushed away abruptly. 

“To clarify,” said Harrowhark, “I still hate you.” 

“Oh, ditto,” said Gideon. 

“Good,” said Harrow, and pulled herself up by Gideon’s shirt to straddle her. 

The Reverend Daughter’s thighs pressed tight into her sides, and Gideon placed a palm on her back to pull their bodies flush together. Harrow’s kisses were rough and insistent and she gripped Gideon’s face with both hands. When Harrow took Gideon’s lower lip between her teeth to drag it out, Gideon couldn’t help chuckling at her attempts to retain control. 

“What’s so funny?” Harrow snapped. 

“Nothing at all, my skeleton sovereign.” 

“I could slap you.” 

“Kinky.” 

Harrow settled for a sharp twist of Gideon’s ear, but leaned back in despite herself. 

Sure, Gideon had wanked over Harrow more times than she cared to admit. Somehow, though, she’d always managed to convince herself that the princess of the Ninth was irredeemably repulsive. Now Harrowhark was life-sized and soft against her, and even though Gideon’s hands nearly circled her waist where they rested on her hips, Gideon couldn’t get enough of her. She slipped her hands under her necromancer’s shirt, craving the warmth of her skin, and Harrow ground herself harder against Gideon’s hips at the touch. 

They parted so that Gideon could pull Harrow’s shirt over her head. Harrow avoided her gaze and tugged at her collar. 

“Take yours off, too.” 

“What, so we’re even?” 

“Because I said so, Nav.” 

“Whatever you say,” said Gideon, barely refraining from wiggling her eyebrows as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and threw it behind her. She could feel Harrow trying very hard to maintain that steely glare, but it didn’t escape her that Harrow’s eyes flickered over the breadth of her arms and chest with something approaching hunger. 

Gideon, satisfied that Harrow would give her biceps at least an 8, took her necromancer’s hips in both hands and rolled her over on the bed. She pressed her lips to Harrow’s jaw and mouthed at her neck, her throat, her collarbones. Harrow’s breathing quickened under her, and when Gideon ground a thigh between her legs she let out a whimper she couldn’t suppress. 

Unclasping Harrow’s bone-inlaid bra, Gideon sat back against Harrow’s thigh. 

“For god’s sake, Griddle, what are you staring at?” 

“If I’d known there were tits like _these_ on the Ninth I might have stayed,” she said, and leaned to take Harrow’s nipple in her mouth before she could offer a retort. Harrow gave a low whine as her nipple hardened between Gideon’s teeth, looking down at her open-mouthed and longing. She jerked up into Gideon’s thigh, desperate for friction. 

Harrow’s breath hitched as Gideon unbuttoned her pants and reached between her legs. As she drew her fingers slowly along the length of her slit, Gideon pressed herself against Harrow, mouth to her bone-adorned ear, and couldn’t help whispering, “God, you’re wet.” 

Harrow didn’t moan, holding onto her dignity with teeth clamped over her lip and brows furrowed. Gideon could feel the way she ached under her touch, but kept her strokes wide and lazy, giving Harrow all but what she needed. 

“Nav,” she said. 

“Yuh huh?” 

“Stop _fucking_ teasing.” 

Gideon pulled the cartilage of her ear between her teeth. “Wanna hear you say it.” 

“Pardon me?” 

Harrow was flushed and growing more frustrated by the second. Her attempts at composure were undone by the desperation on her face, and it was giving her cavalier a serious boner. 

“Say it,” Gideon repeated, planting her arms on either side of Harrow’s head. “What do you want, Nonagesimus?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Not until you ask.” 

Harrow heaved a sigh. “I want you to fuck me, Nav.” 

“Better,” said Gideon, lowering herself so that their foreheads were almost touching. “You can ask nicer than that, though, Reverend Daughter.” 

She watched Harrow grit her teeth. It was a display of anger she was used to, just not in such close relief. Harrow’s breaths came heavy against hers. 

“Please,” she said. 

Gideon drew a hand teasingly over her slit. “Please what?” 

Harrow let out the beginnings of a groan, took Gideon’s shoulders in her hands, and pushed her sideways onto her back. Gideon could only lie in – extremely horny – shock as her necromancer mounted her hips and pulled Gideon’s hand down her body. 

“For the love of the emperor, Griddle,” she seethed, “would you _please_ fuck me already?” 

“Why didn’t you just say so?” said Gideon, and pushed two fingers inside her. 

Never had Gideon imagined she’d see Harrow like this, dripping around her own fingers, pale back arched, her head tilted back as she muffled her moans. Okay, that was a lie, she totally had. But she’d never thought it would actually happen. Here was Harrow, in the flesh. 

When she sat up for better leverage, Harrow’s tits were almost at eye level, and Gideon couldn’t help taking them back into her mouth as she fucked Harrow deeper. The girl squirmed against her and whimpered, hips moving more insistently against her hand. 

“Go on, ride me,” Gideon said softly, and Harrow whined. Inhibitions gone, her necromancer bucked into her hand, grasping at Gideon’s shoulders to steady herself. 

Gideon reached around with her other hand to press a thumb into Harrow’s clit, and she gasped. Harrow ground down faster, needier, slick in her cavalier’s hands. 

“You gonna come for me, Harrow?” 

Harrow groaned. 

“That wasn’t a no.” 

“Not if you don’t shut up, I won’t,” Harrow panted, and clapped a hand over Gideon’s mouth. 

Keeping her hand pressed to Gideon’s face, she drove harder into Gideon’s touch and came around her with a high moan. Her legs shook and she dipped her forehead to Gideon’s, sweaty brow hovering over the hand silencing her cavalier. She let out a sigh and Gideon pulled her fingers away, letting her roll back onto the bed. 

_“Fuck,”_ said Gideon. 

Harrow was silent. 

Gideon stared at the ceiling. She could feel Harrow raising walls like she did constructs, and knew better than to try and shift them. Even if she had just taken the bone adept in question straight to bone town. 

Which is why she was surprised to hear Harrow speak again. 

“I may not be as well versed in pornographic literature as you,” she said, “but I feel it would be inconsiderate of me not to return the favour.” 

Gideon’s eyebrows shot up. “Did I hear that right? Did you –” 

“Shut up before I change my mind.” 

Harrowhark lay beside her, flushed and glaring. As Gideon moved to straddle her again Harrow reached up to pull her closer, nails tracing the shorn hair at the back of her head. Experimentally, Harrow pushed a hand under the waistband of Gideon’s pants and smirked. 

“I guess I should take this as a compliment, Griddle.” 

“I wouldn’t flatter yourself,” Gideon said, or had at least begun to say, before Harrow started working a finger fast against her clit. 

Her arms didn’t buckle – they were made of steel, thank you very much – but they did shift forward as Harrow made her gasp with sudden need. No sound came from either of them except the hurried movement of Harrow’s hand against Gideon’s wetness. 

When Harrow drew her hand away, Gideon almost whined. 

“Nonagesimus, what are you –” 

“Take your pants off.” 

“What?” 

“Pants. Now.” 

Gideon scrambled to get them around her ankles, flinging them into some far corner before climbing back onto her necromancer. 

“Good,” said Harrow, with a pinch of her nipple for emphasis. She then shoved one leg upwards between Gideon’s, grinding it into her. “I want you to come on my thigh.” 

Gideon filed away a reminder to gloat about this later, and gave into the pulsing between her legs. She was slick against Harrow’s skin, and the pressure felt good but she needed more, needed it harder. Gritting her teeth, she ground back into her thigh. Harrow was open-mouthed below her and held a dare in her eyes as her cavalier moved more frantically against her. Gideon came with a cry, clamping her legs around Harrow’s, body curled over her. 

They stared at one another, panting, until Gideon spoke. 

“You feel a little more relaxed, bone lady?” 

“Go to hell,” said Harrow. 

Gideon, naturally, took that as a yes.


End file.
